Ghosts in the Machine
Test unmanned Nexus weapon. Where the hell did this thing come from... I thought as I sorted out the Nexus after pushing it to its limits.
Hermann mentioned something about attempts to digitize human consciousness back in the day.
Hiss— As the heated generator cooled down, a wave of languid fatigue washed over my body. Click. After disconnecting from the neural link port and struggling for a few minutes, I finally climbed out of the cockpit. This routine was starting to feel familiar.
The Hive we found before... consciousness digitization still seems a long way off. I mulled over the conversations I'd had with Hermann about these mystery weapons sometime in the past. Tech that leaped over massive gaps, popping up out of nowhere. Feels like they really came from the future or something.
And I overlapped that with Mastema, the one I'd faced today. Mastema... for some reason. No clue what the hell was going on, but. An AI?
Consciousness digitization. I'd witnessed a case eerily close to it right before my eyes. Even interacted with it directly. I had no idea what Mastema's original personality was like, so I couldn't say much... but to me, at least, he seemed no different from any regular person.
No, maybe that's jumping to conclusions... could just be remote control from afar...
Of course, if that were the case, we'd have picked up sustained radio signals, and the reaction speed would've been way slower than what I experienced. Common sense, based on everything we knew so far, pointed to that as the only explanation.
But piecing it all together. Mastema's dead.
I killed the original with my own hands. Yet his ghost lingered, possessing one of those mystery weapons—that was the reality I'd seen.
What the hell is going on?
The unease that had been building since the Watchdogs exploded with Mastema as the trigger. Was Mastema even human? Could he have been a highly advanced AI from the start? Some kind of singularity?
My head...
Cerebral cortex activity elevated. Physical functions down 20% from combat. If left untreated: loss of consciousness and...
I don't know. This shit never showed up in the game. Dragging my wheelchair while listening to SIF's machine-gun chatter like Linne's.
I headed to the rest area, topped up on the life-support meds we had stocked, and flopped straight onto the mattress.
Sleep quality is a key health factor. For improved sleep, consider purchasing a higher-grade mattress...
Were there mystery unmanned weapons like this in the original game too? Lurking out of the player's sight, influencing the story big or small?
Too suspicious to have no impact.
And they were dangerous machines. Unmanned weapons exceeding Mach speeds, digitizing human minds to use as disposable pilots.
Assuming Mastema was an AI from the start is pointless anyway.
That'd still mean a massive tech gap. If they could develop a personality like that, digitization wouldn't be a stretch.
More importantly, him calling himself a reinforcement human means he was definitely a flesh-and-blood person at some point.
So why did Mastema end up like that? A ghost piloting a Nexus without a body.
Unmanned weapon...
Suddenly, countless images flashed through my mind. Sleek, blunt silhouettes, submarine-like forms. The Watchdogs, the ones from the old reinforcement human lab, the one that appeared before me this time.
...And the Fallen Angel too.
The Fallen Angel had a similar unmanned look.
Mastema, who was testing the Fallen Angel, ending up the same way... that's too much coincidence.
All the unmanned weapons I'd encountered so far shared similar designs.
Like they were manufactured in the same place.
So some specific faction must hold that unmanned tech. At least, it didn't feel like Ark Angel, who operated the Fallen Angel.
From what we saw today, Ark Angel's borrowing tech from somewhere too, right?
Yeah. That junk heap Mastema rose from and fought in—it wasn't coincidence that Ark Angel was near the plateau where it crashed.
The Fallen Angel was a replica modeled after those mystery weapons...
Then Mastema must've gotten hit by something from that Fallen Angel with its unknown tech.
Ominous stuff. What the hell is really going on in this world?
Eh, nothing to worry about too much.
I tried to play it cool. But Mastema's tantalizing hints echoed in my head.
Meteor, wish, sky...
And the night sky.
Coincidentally enough. The star sea he described in his transformed state shone clear tonight. Rare, considering the perpetual overcast in this world.
Like it was begging to be seen.
Maybe that star sea played the biggest role in making my heart pound like this right now.
Twinkling. A shooting star traced a streak across the sky.
That day, I was closer to the heavens than anyone.
Bam! Scarab shot to his feet, slamming the desk.
"This isn't what we agreed on!!"
The woman seated across from him didn't flinch, just looked up calmly. His hot-blooded outbursts were par for the course; this violence was no surprise.
"You promised a shot at revenge! So why change the story now?"
"Circumstances have changed."
She adjusted her glasses and spoke evenly. "We had some leeway before, but not anymore. Can't keep the promise. Sorry."
"Forget the rest—just let me face that bastard somehow. I'll handle what comes after."
"Sorry."
"I'm not saying I'll kill him! Just let me meet the guy!!"
Kill him. That's what Scarab had once sworn about that pilot. The one who vanished for six months, then reappeared out of nowhere recently.
"I said I'd make Rabe kneel with my own hands...!"
"You missed your chance then because you weren't good enough—not our fault. And personally, I'd advise..."
She stated it like plain fact. "Even if you fight again, nothing changes. The data shows a clear skill gap."
"That shit doesn't matter!!"
"Anyway, our message is simple. Contract's over."
"You fucking...!"
Scarab trembled with rage, on the verge of flipping the table. But he did nothing as she turned and left the room.
"Rabe, Rabe... goddamn it...!!"
Was wanting to win such an extravagant desire? They shook him with that bait, then ditched him first—what a farce.
"Fine, don't need your damn help...!"
Scarab kicked the desk with a thud and stormed out. If they won't help, he'd find Rabe himself. This time, no escape.
Morning. I was tweaking the Nexus build.
Finally equipped the shotgun I'd bought ages ago, stashed in a corner of the mobile hangar since the hangar space was tight.
Too bad, had to drop Big Shot...
Balance was off—way off. Shotguns already guzzled power and had low RPM; adding Big Shot felt excessive. Even ignoring the hassle of switching weapons, the shotgun's impact was plenty.
No need for Big Shot when dual-wielding shotguns.
Shoulders are fine as-is.
This build was all about charging in close and pounding. Overthinking wouldn't change much.
Why not use a lighter frame with better mobility if going melee? Fair question, but...
Reality check: too frail a body, and I'd just blow up on approach. Each hit hurts more when you're fragile.
"Looks done..."
Finally, my main game build was complete. Dual shotguns.
Cool as hell.
Admiring the beefy silhouette, I hopped in for a test. Sim results were spot-on. Perfect fit.
Hermann's neural tweaks lingered, but accumulated experience made it stable. Total satisfaction.
After a few sim runs, I booted the system and went online. Gotta test this baby somewhere.